


Art for Art's Sake

by margdean56



Series: Tower Mountain/New Hope stories [2]
Category: Elfquest
Genre: Gen, Tower Mountain, dance troupe, favor trading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 20:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margdean56/pseuds/margdean56
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Tower's dance troupe plans a surprise for one of their newer members -- and ends up with, well, a surprise!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art for Art's Sake

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in _Tales of the Tower #21/22_

TWR 212

**See? What did I tell you? She’s at it again.** Sharai drew the heavy curtains a little farther apart so Xylene could see through them too. The plantshaper ducked under her taller friend’s arm and peered through the opening. Beyond was a narrow, railed ledge overlooking one of the practice studios of Tower Mountain’s dance troupe. From this vantage point, the entrance to one of the Tower’s numerous glide tunnels, the two dancers could look directly into the fretwork of padded stone bars crisscrossing the upper portion of the studio. Here the gliders of the troupe devised and rehearsed the intricate aerial patterns that were so much a part of the Tower’s dance tradition.

**She’s certainly something to watch,** Xylene sent admiringly after a moment. Her amber eyes followed the slender figure that flitted among the bars, a long brown ponytail floating behind it.

**She is that,** Sharai replied dryly. **No one questions Vallaree’s talent. Or her dedication. Makes me think she’s her father’s daughter after all. But that’s just the problem—**

**So you said. Here comes Davrille.**

Below them, at floor level, the curtains over the studio’s main doorway twitched aside and Davrille walked in. Her dark, wavy hair was bound back and she wore a practice leotard and tights. She glanced up at the glide bars, crossed her arms and visibly heaved a sigh. “Vallaree.” She spoke quietly, but the stone room amplified the single word, making it echo.

The flitting figure halted in midair and looked down. Then, with a small, mortified “Oh!” Vallaree floated quickly to the floor, landing in front of Davrille. “I’m sorry, Davrille,” she said contritely, hands behind her back and her face pink with embarrassment as she looked up at her aunt. “Is it your turn to use the practice room already? I guess I lost track of time.”

“I guess you did,” Davrille said, one corner of her full mouth quirking in a wry smile. “I also guess you missed daymeal. It’s after midday, you know.”

“Is it?”

Davrille nodded. “I’m sure your mother saved you something, though. Why don’t you run along and find out?”

“All right.” Vallaree fidgeted, then added, “Do you know when the room’s free again?”

Davrille rolled her eyes upward. “I’m in here for the next span or so. Then it’s Crystel’s turn, then Jilleen’s. Then after dinner Mikail’s running the chorus in here—”

“I know. I’m in that.”

“Well, then. Why don’t you go take a rest till after dinner? You work too hard, little bird,” Davrille added, patting her niece’s cheek. Vallaree blushed but said nothing. “Go on now. I need to practice.” Vallaree nodded, still without speaking, then lifted a little from the floor and glided out the doorway.

Once she was safely gone, Sharai pushed the curtain aside and stepped out onto the narrow balcony of the glide tunnel. Xylene followed her as Davrille looked up. Sharai indicated her friend with a toss of her honey-maned head. “I had to show her before she’d believe me,” she announced to Davrille.

Davrille chuckled. “Are you convinced now, Xylene?”

“Well…”

Sharai slipped an arm around Xylene’s waist and floated them both over the railing to the floor. “Well, what?”

“Is it really such a problem?”

“You don’t know the half of it!” Sharai exclaimed. “It’s not just encroaching on other people’s practice time. It’s late nights and early mornings and any time the place isn’t in use. High Ones only know when the poor dear sleeps, or eats. And one of these days she’ll push someone too far. You’re always nice about it, Davrille, and so’s Ceyte, naturally, but I know Jilleen’s been complaining, and it’s a wonder Lest has kept his temper this long. I’m just counting the days till he finally blows up at her.”

“Oh, no! He wouldn’t!” Xylene protested.

“I’m sure he’d be sorry for it if he did,” Davrille observed. “Even Lest is susceptible to those big brown doe eyes. But Sharai’s right—it’s a problem.”

“I hadn’t realized.” Xylene, not a glider herself, had no occasion to use the aerial practice room. “Does Mikail know?”

Sharai snorted. “He’d probably encourage her. In fact, if our beloved troupe master were a glider, I’ll bet you a turn’s worth of dreamberries we’d have the same problem with _him_.”

“No doubt,” Davrille laughed. “But what do we do about it?”

Sharai smiled mysteriously. “It just so happens I have a plan—”

“How’d I guess?” Xylene interjected.

“—and if you really want to know what it is, come to my rooms after practice tonight. I’ll tell you about it then.”

 

“The solution is really quite obvious,” Sharai announced to the group of dancers assembled in her rooms that night. There were eight of them scattered carelessly over couches and strewn cushions, sipping wine and munching sweet biscuits brought by Sharai’s graceful human maidservant. “What Vallaree needs is her own practice room—her own _aerial_ practice room, one she can use all day long if she likes. Then maybe she’ll keep a halfway normal schedule, with meals and sleep and little things like that, and be off our tailfeathers as well.”

“What a wonderful idea!” exclaimed Ceyte, her amber eyes sparkling. “Can you imagine how thrilled she’ll be?”

“No doubt she’d be thrilled if someone strung the stars in a necklace for her too,” Jilleen said sarcastically. “A practice studio—an aerial practice studio, no less—is no small thing to ask of a shaper. Anyone here have a really heavy favor owed from Beliel, say?”

“Not likely,” Crystel put in dryly. “Beliel doesn’t run up that kind of debt from mere dancers.”

“Wouldn’t want Beliel on it anyway,” Tandeya stated. “Style’s wrong. He’s not a dancer, wouldn’t know what was needed, and wouldn’t listen if you told him. Good shaper, but—” She shrugged and left the sentence unfinished.

“It’s a pity we can’t ask Serggyon,” Davrille said with a sigh. “Now, there was a rockshaper who’d listen.” Several of the others nodded regretfully. Serggyon had, not too many turns ago, reshaped the entire lighting track and most of the ceiling for the Tower’s major performance hall. The dance troupe agreed his work was superb. But shortly after completing this masterpiece, Serggyon had elected to become Functional—a Door—deep in the cellars of the Tower, just as Khepri, the Tower’s greatest artist in stone, and before him Dekan, had chosen to do.

**I hope no one suggests asking Foi,** Xylene locksent to Sharai, with a veiled glance at Jilleen. Their fellow dancer’s antipathy for Foi, now called Widget, was well known. It was believed that she blamed the mad rockshaper, who lived as a renegade within the walls, for the departure of her lifemate Baz from the Tower.

Fortunately, no one mentioned Foi. Instead, Davrille went on to ask, “What’s your father doing these days, Meiji?”

Meiji looked doubtful. “He and Servan are working on the Water Gardens again. They’re redesigning a whole gallery, so he’s been spending most of his time there. I could ask him, but…”

“No, I have it!” Crystel exclaimed, snapping her fingers. “Not Havrin—Zareth!”

“Zareth?” Jilleen looked faintly scandalized.

“Why not? She works with the troupe, she knows what we need—”

“If she remembers!”

“—she’s a good shaper, when she puts her mind to it—”

“—whenever that is—which isn’t often—”

**Settle down, children.** Sharai’s sending overrode the other two’s verbal fencing match. “Crystel’s right,” she went on to the company at large. “Zareth would do it. You know she enjoys working for the troupe. And what will keep her mind on the job is if we do something nice for her, something she’ll really appreciate.”

“Like what?” Jilleen demanded.

“Like,” Sharai replied, a satisfied grin spreading over her face, “a real Tower-shaker of a party—in her honor.”

“Perfect!” Xylene exclaimed. If there was one thing they all knew Zareth enjoyed more than anything else, it was a hot party—that, and being the center of attention.

“It should be a surprise party,” continued Sharai, building on her plan. “That will heighten the effect. We can have it here.” She gestured toward the spiral staircase that led up to her large entertainment area. “I provided the music for Beliel’s last get-together, so he owes me enough of a favor that I should be able to wheedle a makeover out of him. One of his ‘passion pit specials,’ I think.”

“I’m sure I can get Kesik to provide the foodstuffs,” said Xylene, “especially when I tell him what it’s for. He’s always been fond of Vallaree.”

“Vallaree isn’t the only person he’s fond of,” Sharai said with a wink at her friend. “I’m sure you’ll be able to convince your beloved lifemate. The next question is, who gets to corner Dantum?”

“I will,” Crystel offered with a predatory gleam in her eyes. “Trust me. When I’m through with him, he won’t be capable of _thinking_ ‘no,’ much less saying it.”

“Just leave him enough energy to cook, that’s all we ask. Oh, and remember that Zareth doesn’t eat meat these days. What else?”

“I’ll do the music,” Ceyte volunteered.

“Thank you, dear one. I’ll see if I can’t twist Frith’s arm a little and get him and Emerel to spell you. It shouldn’t be hard if we promise him plenty of wine between sets.”

“Wine!” Xylene pounced on the word. “Zareth adores sparkle-wine. If anything will make her feel appreciated, that will. Does anyone have some?” A collection of blank looks was exchanged. Apparently no one had.

“Kela’s hoarding it these days,” Meiji ventured. “Feyhr mentioned it. Several turns bad harvest. I don’t know if he’d part with any except for an important feast. Unless he owes someone a favor?” More blank looks. No one had done a large favor for Kela recently.

“Speaking of Feyhr,” Sharai said to bridge the awkward moment, “I got the most marvelous concoction from him last moon—best high I’ve had in a long time. A little of that would liven up the party no end. Who has a line on Feyhr?”

After an appreciable pause, Jilleen said slowly, “Well … not Feyhr himself … but I know he owes Kiriel one for herb-gathering. So if I can arrange to take a few of her patrols over the next moon or so … I can get it,” she finished confidently.

“Wonderful! Thank you, Jilleen!” Xylene said, relieved. Up till now she had not been sure Jilleen would go along with the plan at all. The hawkrider-dancer had always seemed a wee bit jealous of Vallaree’s meteoric rise within the troupe. But Jilleen could never resist trying her hand at the intricate game of favor trading.

Sharai was still planning out loud. “Decorations, no problem. Peysol won’t mind if we ransack his storeroom for draperies. Can we borrow some of your big cushions, Ceyte? I don’t think I have enough right now.”

“We can all throw in a few cushions,” said Crystel, picking up a small one that lay near her and tossing it at Sharai by way of demonstration. Sharai caught it and threw it back with a grin.

“I just wish there was some way to get that sparkle-wine,” Xylene fretted.

Tandeya spoke up unexpectedly. “I’ll get the wine.”

They all looked at her, startled. “You will? How?” asked Xylene.

Tandeya shrugged. “I’ll trade for it. Kela’s been pestering me for eights about that yellow dye formula I came up with.” She grinned. “Haven’t felt like giving it to him. But I will now, provided he gives us the wine. He’ll go for it—guaranteed!”

“Brava, Tandeya!” Sharai exclaimed, applauding lightly. Then she added, a touch of concern in her voice, “Are you sure you want to do it, kitling? I know how hard you worked on that yellow.”

Tandeya flipped her platinum bangs out of her eyes with a careless toss of her head and looked her aunt and foster-mother in the face. “It’s for Art,” the choreographer stated. “Vallaree’s a cursed good dancer. If she gets her own practice room, it can only make her better. I may need that ‘better’ someday for one of my dances. Fair trade, to my way of thinking.”

Crystel nodded. “She’s right.”

“We’re getting off the subject,” Jilleen interrupted. “The next question is, who do we want to invite to this party? And the first person who says ‘Malra’ will be pitched down the Grand Stair with a rock tied to her feet.”

 

Preparations for Zareth’s party proceeded with the smoothness of long experience. Before a hand of days had passed, Sharai and Xylene were able to go looking for the rockshaper soon after the end of dance rehearsal. They already had a good idea of where she would be, and they were not disappointed. She was in the green room just off the main practice hall, dabbing bits of color on one cheek or the other and rubbing them off again after a few moments’ scrutiny in a mirror. She turned quickly as they entered, the expectant look on her face shifting to one of slightly exaggerated disappointment. Most of Zareth’s expressions seemed slightly exaggerated.

“Oh!” she said. “I was expecting Dis. Have either of you seen her anywhere? She _told_ me we would get together today after practice and discuss the makeup for the chorus dancers. We have some _marvelous_ ideas, but we need to try them out first before we show them to Mikail. You know him—everything has to be _perfect!_ ” Zareth flung out one short-fingered hand in a theatrical gesture. The bright pink scarf she had attached at her wrist and elbow fluttered. Zareth’s latest clothing affectation was a multitude of wildly contrasting scarves worn over a solid black bodysuit. They fluttered from her waist in a sort of skirt, crisscrossed her bodice, and were tied at ankles, arms, neck, and wherever else Zareth could think of. Several were braided into her dark brown hair. Sharai, looking her over with a critical eye, decided that her garb was sufficiently festive. Then again, Zareth always looked as if she were dressed for a party.

“No, we haven’t seen Dis lately,” Xylene said. _Not since before practice when we left her up in my quarters, mixing incense,_ Sharai thought to herself. “We were looking for you. Sharai and I have a commission we want to discuss with you.”

“A commission?” Zareth looked interested and faintly pleased. Though she took her rockshaping abilities with as little seriousness as she did practically everything else, she enjoyed being sought out. “What kind of commission?”

“It’s a surprise,” Sharai stated, glancing around the green room as if the walls might suddenly sprout ears. “Have you made arrangements for dinner? No? Good—I thought we might go up to my rooms and discuss it over a bite of something.”

Zareth cocked her head consideringly. “Well … I suppose I could … but what about Dis?”

“Why don’t you send to her?” suggested Xylene.

“Now, why didn’t _I_ think of that?” Zareth demanded of herself with a laugh. Her hazel eyes grew unfocused for a few heartbeats. Then she turned to the two dancers and spread her hands, palms up. “She says she’s busy and can’t come down anyway. So I’m all yours,” she added, hopping to her feet.

“Wonderful!” Xylene took one arm and Sharai the other as they left the green room.

All the way up several turns of the Grand Stair, Zareth tried to wheedle “just a little hint” of the mysterious commission out of her two companions, but neither of them would oblige. “All in good time,” was all Sharai would say. “We want this to be a _complete_ surprise.”

“Can’t you even tell me who it’s for?” Zareth asked as they entered Sharai’s rooms.

“You’ll know in a moment. Come along, dear.” Sharai began to lead her guest to the spiral staircase.

“Up here?” Zareth was puzzled. Normally Sharai only used her upper room for major entertaining. An informal dinner for three hardly counted as a party.

“Go on,” Xylene urged with a little push from behind. “We’ll explain presently.”

A moment later Zareth emerged into the upper room and stopped dead in astonishment. “Here’s our guest of honor, everybody!” Sharai announced. In response there was a general chorus of “SURPRISE!”

With the help of draperies, suitable lighting and Beliel’s rockshaping Talent, Sharai’s mutable entertainment room had become a sensuous cavern of dark, vibrant colors and organic, undulating shapes. The musicians’ podium in one alcove and the refreshment table in another had their patches of level floor, but most of the rest of the room was taken up by three irregular, cushion-filled pits. Incense burned in suggestively sculpted stands, interspersed with flickering lamps in the same style. Perhaps four or five hands of elves stood, sat, or reclined in small groups about the room, their dress ranging from deceptively casual to deliberately provocative. Nearly all of them were grinning at Zareth. A delighted smile blossomed on her face as she took in the scene.

“Hi, Mom!” yelled Malra from across the room, waving an arm at her. “Some party, huh?” Strictly speaking, Zareth’s son had not been invited, but he had gotten wind of the affair at the last moment and assumed he would be welcome. In truth no one really minded his coming. The chief fear had been that he’d find out about the party too soon and let word of it leak out to Zareth. It was well known that Malra was utterly incapable of keeping a secret.

“Sorry I couldn’t come work on that makeup with you,” said Dis, sashaying up to Zareth. “As you can see, I _was_ kinda busy. But it’s been worth every moment, darling. You’ll never guess. I finally got that fruit-flavored body paint to work right!” She took Zareth’s arm companionably. “Come on over here and we’ll try it out. Tajal and Synf said they’d help with the taste test. Ahahah!” Her bawdy laugh rang out over the murmur of partygoers.

“Have some wine first before you ruin your palate with that goop,” Sharai suggested. She beckoned to a scantily clad human servant, who hurried up with a tray full of glasses. Zareth took a sip of the sparkling pink brew offered to her, as from the musicians’ podium Ceyte, Crystel and Geibryl struck up one of her favorite tunes. Her smile grew and her eyes brightened. She knew already this was going to be a perfectly wonderful party.

 

By midnight, nothing had happened to alter Zareth’s opinion. “ _Wonderful_ party,” she remarked to Sharai and Xylene, who had strolled over to see how she was enjoying herself. At the moment Zareth was lounging comfortably on a pile of cushions, while Cylan and Tandeya indulged in a tipsy, companionable argument over what designs they should paint on her next. Frith and Emerel, waiting for them to decide, passed the time by doing interesting things to her feet and ankles. “Just wonderful,” Zareth repeated.

“It’s nice to know you’re having a good time,” Xylene said with a grin as she and Sharai sat down on either side of Zareth. “We did want you to be pleased.”

“Can’t figure out something, though,” Zareth went on, her expression faintly puzzled. “What’s the occasion? Party like this—” She made an expansive gesture. “—should be celebrating something. Declaring, or art project, or … well, _something_. Great party, but what’s it for?”

“Who says it can’t be just for you?” Xylene asked rhetorically. “But as a matter of fact—”

“—we did have something in mind,” Sharai picked up the sentence. “Remember we said we had a commission for you? Well, that was true.” She and Xylene proceeded to tell Zareth what they needed. The rockshaper nodded knowledgeably the whole time. “We just thought it might be fun to celebrate before the fact,” Sharai added with a grin.

Zareth grinned back at her. “Like the way you think,” she declared. “Can’t let a party like this go to waste, huh? I’ll do it!” She grabbed a glass of wine from a passing tray and raised it. “Here’s to Vallaree and wonderful surprises!”

“I’ll drink to that!” Xylene seconded her. Sharai laughed and joined in. Then, catching the eye of another servant with a small tray of tiny glass bottles, she beckoned the girl over.

“Have you tried this yet?” she asked Zareth. “It’s a new concoction of Feyhr’s. Marvelous stuff.”

Zareth took one of the little bottles and sniffed at it. It smelled slightly of dreamberries, mingled with a few other things she couldn’t identify. Shrugging, she swallowed the contents of the bottle. The potion was sweet, but had a bitter aftertaste. Grimacing, she grabbed another glass of wine to wash it down with. Her head began to buzz pleasantly. The buzz turned into ethereal music that somehow managed not to clash with whatever Ceyte was playing off in the corner. Tandeya and Cylan were painting purple swirls on her midriff. She could taste the paint through her skin. It was delicious—better than dreamberries, even better than sparkle-wine. She’d had a lot of sparkle-wine this evening. She could see it sparkling inside her. Her whole body was sparkling. She looked over at Sharai and Sharai must have had some too because she was sparkling as well, her eyes like glowing aquamarines and she said something Zareth couldn’t make out but it must be wonderful … everything was wonderful … they were all wonderful … and the practice room would be…

 

“Wonderful,” Zareth murmured, getting carefully to her feet. Oddly enough, no one responded. Everyone else seemed to be asleep in tangled heaps on the floor. Small piles of discarded clothing, empty glasses, and other party debris were strewn about. Zareth knew the signs well enough—the party had come to an end. In a while the human servants would start tidying up the mess, weaving their way carefully between inert elfin bodies. Zareth knew she should feel disappointed, the way she always did after a party, but some of Feyhr’s potion must still be working because she just couldn’t. She felt marvelous.

Standing there, swaying a little, Zareth remembered the commission Sharai and Xylene had spoken of. A beatific smile spread over her round face. She would go and shape the practice room right now. What a wonderful idea! She had never felt more inspired. The practice room would be a masterpiece.

A few of her scarves were in easy reach. Zareth wound them haphazardly about her body. She felt almost as if she were gliding as she stepped lightly around tumbled sleepers and picked her way toward Sharai’s spiral staircase. She made a slight detour to the refreshment table to pick up a half-filled skin of sparkle-wine. She might, after all, need something to sustain her while she worked.

Dawn was peeping through the windows in the lower chamber when she reached it. A couple of humans were coming into Sharai’s rooms, probably cleaning staff. They stared at her; she gave them a cheery wave and passed on. She met no one else on her way down the Grand Stair to the studio levels. That was just as well, she thought. After all, this was supposed to be a surprise!

It took her a little while to find the spot Sharai and Xylene had mentioned as being a good one for the new studio, since the corridors seemed to change size in odd ways. They only settled down when she had the brilliant idea of closing her eyes and feeling her way along the wall with her shaper’s sense. Yes, that was _much_ better. And Xylene was right—this was the perfect spot. Zareth took a large swig of wine from the skin she carried, laughed with delight, and set to work.

 

It was midmorning before any of the other partygoers stirred. Sharai and Xylene were the first to wake. As official hostesses for the affair, they had felt obliged to keep fairly clear heads until the party was well along. Meiji was also easy enough to rouse, since she didn’t indulge much in intoxicants. Sharai was relieved to note that her servants had already begun the process of cleaning up. While she, Meiji and Xylene were sorting out whose clothing was whose, to be delivered to the correct chambers along with its comatose owners, they noticed the absence of Zareth.

Sharai’s first worried thought was to check the stairs, in case her guest of honor had fallen. To her relief, this did not appear to have happened. Nor did anyone else seem to be missing, which precluded Zareth’s having slipped off with a partner or two to find some privacy. That would be uncharacteristic of Zareth anyway; privacy never seemed to matter to her. Finally, after questioning several servants, Sharai discovered that Zareth had simply got up and left around dawn. She and Xylene exchanged a bleary-eyed glance and a shrug and returned to attend to the rest of their gradually awakening guests.

By midday, only the original eight conspirators remained in Sharai’s lower room, facing a light breakfast and the sunlight coming in at the windows with varying degrees of fortitude. None of them were prepared for the sight of Zareth as she came bursting through the entryway, clothed in a few scarves and the occasional smear of body paint, her hazel eyes sparkling.

“It’s done!” she announced with a magnificent sweep of her hands.

“Done?” Ceyte echoed, blinking wide amber eyes at her. “What’s done?”

“The commission. The practice room. I’ve finished it. I—oh dear!” Zareth clapped a hand to her mouth and looked around apprehensively. “It was supposed to be a surprise, wasn’t it?”

“No, that’s all right. We all knew about it,” Xylene assured her.

“What do you mean, you’ve finished it?” Sharai demanded at almost the same instant.

“This morning,” Zareth explained. “I was—inspired. The type of inspiration that _must_ be seized before it escapes. The practice room—is finished.”

“Oh, for Ketsal’s sake,” groaned Tandeya. “She’s higher than a feathercloud. What do you suppose she’s done?”

“Whatever it is, we’d better find out right now,” Jilleen said grimly. “I don’t know if anyone else will be in shape to practice today, but Mikail will—”

“—and so will Vallaree,” Davrille chimed in. “Oh, High Ones…”

None of them was in any shape to glide. They rose almost simultaneously and made their way down the Grand Stair as best they could, with Zareth trailing behind them. Sharai, in the lead, stopped the group in time to tiptoe past the one practice hall that was in use. Sure enough, Mikail was inside, coaching Vallaree through her floor exercises. “Thank the High Ones!” Xylene breathed. “They’d have no reason to go down that corridor … I hope…”

They passed the green room and turned left. One curtained doorway … two … and an empty arch where there had previously been a blank wall. Seized all at once by a perverse impulse to know the worst, the eight dancers crowded into the arch and looked up.

There was a long, stunned pause.

Then Xylene’s voice broke the silence. “You know—”

“—I _like_ it,” Sharai finished for her.

 

“It’s beautiful! Oh, Zareth, thank you!” Her wide brown eyes aglow with pleasure, Vallaree turned from gazing up at the glide bars of her new studio and impulsively threw her arms around the rockshaper.

“I’m glad you like it, Valli,” Zareth laughed, pleased that her work was so much appreciated. “But don’t just thank _me_. The rest of the troupe did _some_ of the work too, you know.”

“Oh, I _do_ thank you! All of you!”

“As do I,” Mikail added to the group of dancers assembled in the practice room for the presentation. “I appreciate the trouble you’ve all gone to on Valli’s behalf.”

Sharai smiled with satisfaction. The past few days had been spent busily readying the new practice studio for Vallaree’s use. Mikail had been let in on the secret, if only because he alone could successfully keep Vallaree away from that particular corridor. Padding had been added to the glide bars, Xylene had shaped a wooden exercise bar to run around the perimeter of the room, and Vayree had supplied a temporary hanging for the doorway, promising a specially woven one as soon as it could be finished. A set of mirrors had been commissioned from Jinan, but they would take time to complete. Not that Vallaree seemed to mind. She had glided up and was gradually weaving her way through the glide bars, exclaiming with delight.

The practice room truly was a work of art, Sharai thought as she studied the bars yet again, whatever weird combination of drink, drug, inspiration and Talent had produced it. The seemingly haphazard webwork of stone had a pattern to it that impressed itself subtly upon the mind. After the first shock, she and Xylene had Meiji ask her father to check the studio for structural soundness. Havrin found no hidden weaknesses in the stone. Moreover, the often melancholy rockshaper came out of the room smiling. Sharai knew why. There was a sense of lightness, of gaiety and laughter, woven into the tangle of bars, that transcended their practical purpose. It gave one the feeling that wonderful things could happen here.

“Well,” the dancer said to herself as her eyes followed Vallaree’s graceful progress, “who knows? Maybe, someday, they will.”


End file.
